Dirge
by Kusumita
Summary: Thomas wonders- under the veil of the sky- if Kartik sees the same shapes as he. Kartik considers the situation and still can’t pin point the reason why he feels to cry. Thomas x Kartik Friendshiping


This is dedicated to the fact that Thomas is just so wonderful and I adore him.

Besides- this place needs some more slash fiction around here!

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**Dirge **  
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Thomas wonders- under the veil of the sky- if Kartik sees the same shapes as he. Kartik considers the situation and still can't pin point the reason why he feels to cry__**.**_

__**Kartik x Thomas Friendship**

--

The sky was never free enough. Thomas noted on the texture of the clouds, the strained breams streaming through the whiteness that brought a calming feeling to the sweaty day. His shirt clung to him slightly, fluttering his arms before his face before reaching into his breast pocket and began to dab a small white handkerchief against his neck while exhaling heavily. The heat was far heavier than usual- his visit to the Rochester's Manor was cut short thankfully- and he found the road back seemed a bit bumpier than usual. The man shrugged his shoulders slightly, to chase away a stiffness from his limbs, before shoving the material back into his pocket; Thomas glanced out the window at the shady trees with a nostalgic glare of the sun piercing through every free space.

"Driver-Sir," Thomas muttered, slightly trying to recall the man up front, "Karlton, is it?"

The man up front seemed to sigh, irritated before whipping his Indian figure across to look back slightly, A sweaty tanned face hung under a dark hat, his fingers gripping the reigns of the horse sharply and there was a fire in his eyes which reminded Thomas too much of his mother's tales. He couldn't stand it. He glances away, the sun slightly dazing his eyes, before continuing- even though the pause found Kartik much more exasperation than expected.

"Kartik," he replied, slightly stained to keep calm, "My name is Kartik."  
"Ah- yes- Of course, My mistake,"

Thomas replied with a slightly wave of his hand, as if it were to be apologetic. In England society, it would have been acceptable- to Kartik it was condescending and demeaning. The Indian glared before biting his bottom lip, not wanting to start anything which would put in jeopardy his mission. His mission, such a thing came first even though the goal of his adventure seemed unnaturally appealing with her fair skin and mysterious magic; Kartik found himself staring at Thomas for a moment before pausing to swallow and lick his lips, Thomas and Gemma seemed much like fire and water.

Gemma held the fiery eyes and the personality of a warrior where Thomas, though in charge, held a patience and understanding that Gemma could only understand years to come. Thomas was the water which kept them alive- the reality which reminded them yet protected them from themselves. Thomas…. Was different.

Kartik was no fool; he knew fire was passionate but water was uncontrolled and could exist anywhere- whereas fire was tied down to only where it could eat away and live off of others. He nearly scoffed at himself- finding the comparison resembling that of a rodent. Thomas watched the man who seemed to 

chuckle alone, he coughed to break the self amusement and brought himself to inhale deeply before speaking up again.

"Yes, Kartik, I was inquiring how much longer I am to stay here? My father has need of my presence-,"  
"It won't be more than an hour, weather permits,"

Kartik fired back tiredly, snapping at the man's question before turning back and slapping the reins at the horses once more. Thomas gasped for a moment as he was jerked, hitting against the wood of the window, he cried out at the sudden pain which caused Kartik to pull the reins once more from instinct. The man groaned, his fingers gripping against his head and a wetness felt against his fingers- he was dazed and his eyes darted then crossed and finally he slid back onto the coach's seat.

The foreigner jumped from the driver's seat, with haste he flung open the door and surveyed the area slightly, A small stain of red was against the sharp border of the window- the purple curtains seemed somewhat stained as well. The hit was hard and the evidence was far too demanding, Kartik winced inwardly at the reminder than he caused this by not controlling his anger. The price for such a thing was going to be heavy. The driver turned his attention to Thomas, sprawled in the coat with his head bruised and a trickle of blood running down the side of his head- his hair frazzled and tossed back and his eyes shut in an unconscious slumber. One hand was tangled in his hair, feeling the bruise before he faded into blackness, and the other was hanging off the edge and hovering just over the ground.

"What trouble this bodes….,"

Kartik muttered while shaking his head. Bringing his strong arms to support the fallen man, he slung Thomas's arm over his shoulder and positions his hand against the man's waist. There was a moan from his lips as the movement occurred- _at least he is alive_, Kartik thanked the sky with a roll of his eyes. The Indian looked towards the carriage then Thomas and placed the man against a tree for a moment before proceeding to head back to the carriage to move it away from the road in case of bandits or blocking moving traffic.

Kartik, to this day, isn't sure what caused it- but suddenly the horses went too fast and nearly slammed their great hooves against the fallen man who was lying at the side of the road. Kartik yelled before pulling at them roughly, murderously, and then fought against him with an animalistic strength before shoving the man off the carriage entirely and darting off into the direction of London's main city. Soon their hooves and the carriage being tugged forcefully at such a speed disappeared from Kartik's range 

and he sat there on the dirty floor with dirty on his face. The man wasn't sure what to do next as he brought himself to sit up on his knees- so instead he took in a breath and screamed in rage to the heavenly sky.

--

Luckily enough, not too far into the woods where they fell, there was a small lake nearby. The water was running along a stream where it exited through another and a small clearing was beside it- perhaps their luck was changing. Dumping the heavy man onto the floor, the Rakashana disciple groaned and stretched out into the grass; he was breathing heavily from the exertion of carrying Thomas for such a period. The man was lying beside him, a still look on his face as the blood continued to run and smudge against his pale skin- his clothes still staining even further. Cursing under his breath, the Indian brought the man slightly closer to the water before tearing at his sleeve- cutting it ragged as he dripped it into the cooling waters.

Small fishes parted as his dark fingers molested the cloth within the lake, the white of the material being washed away slightly along with any infectious dirt and sweat. Pulling it out, Kartik drained the liquid by pulling and gripping slightly but placed the still damp cloth beside the man's head. He began to work and wipe away the redness from the man's face- along with any dirt and dust that may have collected- finally, he stopped sort of the man's check and rubbed it while black and red mixed against the peach color of his flesh.

Kartik paused. He gripped the material roughly before continuing and his hand travelled down Thomas's neck and around the collar- Kartik wasn't entirely sure to the extent of the damage as he did not witness it himself. Bringing his other hand to work, he pulled Thomas's right arm slightly and the man groaned and his fingers flinched. The Indian licked his lips in worry at the face his arm might have been broken too- if so, then carrying him was a larger mistake than he could imagine.

There was only really on way to figure out if he was either cut or broken. Kartik hesitated.

Staring at the unconscious man, he was sure Thomas should be out for another hour for he didn't want any misunderstandings that might arise with his next actions. Pulling Thomas up slightly, he pulled at the tie of the shirt and it scattered from the criss-cross fashion and exposed his lean chest slightly. The man brought the wet cloth slightly to hover of Thomas's bare chest; he hesitated once more and felt his own body gain heat. He was embarrassed at such a situation yet it made no sense for in Indian there was 

public baths for all to see- even he had partaken in the lake bathing once or twice. It wasn't uncommon or prude like this society either…. Then why did he feel so-so self conscious?

Swallowing again, Kartik staggered back over to the lake and dipped the dirty cloth in the waters and gripped it violently as he pulled it out with a splash of the force. He returned to the man's side, finally placing the wetness against Thomas's body, which exhaled slightly in response, and Kartik continued to rub against the man's collar bone then shoulder and slightly made his way around the bare chest- once more, Kartik felt a wave of embarrassment. Pulling his hand away from the now damp chest of the man, he rubbed the man's bare arm with the cloth and waited for a response as he caressed over a small bruise on the elbow- Kartik sighed from relief, it was only a bruise.

"Such trouble you are, Mr. Doyle."

Pausing, he lifted his hand against the man's head- he finally touched the wound, Thomas flinched with an intake of sharp air. He hissed while his eyes crunched in what could be mistaken for anger but matched his state of agony from the suddenly cold feeling against the heat of his exposed body. The wound was minor but Thomas- not used to such force of brutality- was immediately jolted out from his somber sleep and brought his head up only to meet with the closeness of the Indian's face against his. Their breaths touched, their lips' flesh nearly molded in an almost kiss since Thomas had shot himself upwards while Kartik was still inspecting the wounds- both their eyes grew wide before Kartik shuffled backwards and Thomas began to cough conspicuously to change the subject.

"Good God, Mr. Kartik- What- What has occurred to cause such a-," Thomas hissed as he brought his hands to his head, "-ah, this pain- Where are we?"

Kartik was silent. The back of his wrist pressed against his lips as he could still taste the peppermint breath of the young man against his tongue. It was only for a moment- a split second- yet he could taste the detail of the mints the man had just eaten before waltzing out of the Manor from courting the daughter of the estate owner. Kartik was disgusted at the fact that it tasted strangely…poignant.

Thomas shot a glance at him, he felt intoxicated with the spices that surrounded the man now. He was dazed but drunk on the strange aromas that he never noticed before- they were exotic and attractive to his senses- Thomas was repulsed by the idea his body forced him to desire to taste it again. He cleared his throat before nodding strangely and his fingers touched his exposed chest. His face went red, a 

feeling of shame and regret swept over him before he pulled the materials of his shirt close and covered himself before covering his face for a moment then peering at Kartik with haughty eyes , a superior glare and a bemused mind seemed to cloud any judgment he might have had earlier.

"Mr.Doyle," Kartik managed through his slight humiliation, "I swear to you- I was only making sure there were no other injuries upon your person."

Kartik knew that normal talk was going to have him hanged in these very woods. He studied Thomas, in that state the man couldn't run too far, too fast. Kartik, with a proper head start, could probably outrun him enough- the Indian calculated the best routes for escape before swallowing once more. He was making a habit of this nervousness around a mere man; it didn't make sense.

"The carriage," Thomas managed, turning his head away while still cupping his head in his fingers, "Where is the carriage?"

Kartik winced and grimaced.

"The horses, I pulled too hard and they jumped then ran-,"

Thomas breathed out in frustration once more. His head was pounding from the pain, the heat was returning to his body and he was beginning to already feel weak. It had been such a normal day- he thought- why did this have to occur _now_? Kartik, though through his many emotions, was feeling the same level of frustration. Gemma would be home from the day spent with her comrades soon enough and notice them gone for far too long- they would send help soon but with such a disagreeable man for so long might drive Kartik to an honorable suicide after murdering him.

"Someone…Someone will come for us, just rest your head,"

With those words, Thomas gave way and fell back into the grass and shut his eyes from the pain of the trauma.

--

The night was so much calmer. The darkness brought a slight solitude with the stars and the moon sending a light down towards the two. Instead of the sun, there was a calming shimmer of shimmer of white against the lake which jolted through the trees and inhabiting any free spaces from the woods. The water swished and moved to a calming melody, Kartik felt the serene environment surge through his body and provoke him to res this eyes- but he had to stay away to wait for someone. Leaving Thomas was no answer- it would be far to dangerous to walk the roads with an injured man and so- Kartik 

waited as he heard Thomas shift in his sleep. The man looked over at the sleeping young gentleman, his expression composed even as he rested with his arm under his head and his fingers outstretched cupping the atmosphere.

"Thomas Doyle….you are far more of an enigma than your sister,"

Kartik managed to mutter, shaking his head with a sad sign. There was a ruffling of clothing, and then a smooth voice which sounded wide awake broke his thoughts.

"Are you fond of her?"

Kartik froze.

"Do you adore Gemma?"

Thomas repeated again before Kartik peered at him from the corner of his eyes, Thomas's gaze was focused on the foreigner. His tanned skin reflecting differently in the moonlight as his dark hair fell over his eyes slightly, there was a handsome gleam surrounding him which Thomas could easily pick up through the cool night.

"Gemma…Mr. Doyle, has your fever-,"  
"You do- that beastly girl- fancy her…," there was a laughter from his lips before turning over to his back and staring at the same sky as Kartik, "…Foolishness."

Kartik gritted his teeth. Indeed, he had some _affection_ for which he believed he shouldn't be judged- he had enough of it on the other end. Thomas sighed before staring at the sky, a smile plastered innocently upon his face like a sleeping child- the clustered sky seemed to make no different to him as he watched the beautiful shapes. Sometimes a woman or even a bird, now he sees a man holding a book and finally a cat wandering the streets- a man of sciences shouldn't hold such thoughts but the stories of wonder are brimming through his mind.

Thomas wonders- under the veil of the sky- if Kartik sees the same shapes as he. Kartik considers the situation and still can't pin point the reason why he feels to cry. The tears are burning in his eyes as he stares up, his hand outstretches into the open air; the shapes appear to him as a child and an older man- Amar. He chokes slightly, his vision blurred and Amar reaches his sights even stronger- so much regret piles into him before he forms a fist with his hand and slowly it brings itself to his forehead with a soft thud.

Thomas is silent. He grimaced before closing his eyes, catching only Kartik turning his back- the man having no strength to retreat elsewhere to lose his tears. Disgust with himself for showing such an weakness- such a pained face in front of the elder brother of the girl who captured his interest; hatred for his new found weakness which seems to be fair exploitation upon the part of his organization.

"Kartik-," Thomas managed, hesitant but he continues, "I don't understand why- but I have the urge to speak of my mother…"

There was silence. Thomas was not discouraged.

"Every time she went to India- she would send what she could back. Sometimes I had wishes she would just bring herself," he muttered with a slight bitterness at the end, "-but she took Gemma with her…..Gemma was the only one to come back; Gemma was soon consoled by our father and everyone else… Gemma needed it of course."

Thomas attempted to save his dignity before he began to sputter incoherently. He took a breath before turning his head to the back turned towards him, Kartik had been listening but the tears refused to stop- they refused to open his well trained mind and command- and his body began to work against him.

"If you miss someone, you cannot say," Thomas brought up finally, "I understand- what you are going through… Because Gemma should never have to see the one she needs to support her- cry."

Kartik choked, he held back his voice. In the end, Kartik realized, Thomas was indeed trying much harder than he let on. Thomas was like the water, Kartik glanced at the lake with a nostalgic expression- Amar was the same.

_Strong._

Kartik turned to Thomas, his face gleaming slightly as proof that he had tried to erase the evidence of any fear or anxieties. Closing his eyes, Kartik nodded slowly.

"Indeed…. Men in London- have it so much harsher than they let on…."

--

It wasn't until early morning did the sound of horses arrived. Servants searching the woods until they came across the two men- asleep and smiling in the clearing; they found it an odd sight even as they sat in the carriage with silence around them. They never stopped smiling. Thomas would look away not and again and Kartik would report to his duties right away- no one ever asked why Thomas's shirt was so undone.

Gemma isn't too sure about her brother anymore. He would complain about her talking with the driver 'that damn Indian' he would say; but she catches him talking to Kartik on a daily basis. How odd, indeed.

"It's almost alarming", she would joke to group, "It's almost like-like you and Pippa!"

Felicity and Pippa would flash at look, then a smile would cross between them. Felicity licked her lips before biting into her cookie and shaking her skirt of any crumbs; Gemma pouted confusedly as Anne merely looked away. There was something coy in their notions- much like the smile Kartik would don as Thomas would shoot him a glare.

Gemma swears, she saw Thomas smirk back! She won't tell him of course, after all- to insinuate and upstanding gentleman finding a 'mutual kinship' with that 'damned Indian' would be the death of her. She would never hear the end of it!

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Read into it what you will... ;)


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